


It All Went Wrong

by gingertoadstools



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/M, Huge Spoilers for both games, M/M, Multi, Not very shippy sorry, SHSL Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:10:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingertoadstools/pseuds/gingertoadstools
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every event has three prepositions of time in relation to it: before the event, during the event, and after the event. This event may even be the process of things going wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It All Went Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> My SHSL Secret Santa fic for milkypillvomit!  
> Apologies if I didn't do them all the justice they deserved. I tried and I'm sorry.  
> It's actually mostly Souda/Sonia/Gundam I don't know how that happened.  
> Also spoilers as far as the eye can see (at least "After it all went Wrong" but generally mostly everywhere)
> 
> Thank you and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (and if you're not milkypillvomit i hope you enjoy too even if it's a bit weird)

**Before it all went wrong**

                Leon Kuwata is definitely not nervous about talking to Naegi.

                He slides his gaze to his sides, nevertheless, waiting for a short boy with a singular tall hair to wander through the door. He’s seen all the cliché movies, scenes of someone waiting for another person to walk into the cafeteria so they have somewhere to sit. Leon  _has_  somewhere to sit, probably a set of somewheres to sit, but he hasn’t taken a seat yet.

                He’s waiting, lunch tray in hand, for Naegi to walk in and grab his usual simple pasta, salad, and cookie and to ask where he would like to sit.

                There was no need to be nervous around. Leon wasn’t even totally sure that the “luck” boy was  _able_  to judge people badly. Even when he failed miserably as a musician, even when he just gave up on the girl, even when he very blatantly lied about not liking baseball in the first place, Naegi had nothing but positivity.

                So when Naegi walks through the door, Leon perks up and asks where he is planning to sit. Of course, Makoto tells him that they can sit wherever Leon chooses, and he picks the table where Hagakure, Aoi, and some other strong girl from a higher grade were all sitting together. Naegi sits beside Aoi while Leon slides himself into the seat across from him and beside Hagakure with energy.

                They talk and grin and Naegi’s so kind to everyone if a little bit overwhelmed still after months of coming to this school and how does this boy manage to intimidate him _?_

                But somehow, despite the simplicity and sweetness inherent to the boy, Leon was daunted by the possibility of making Naegi unhappy at all.

                Naegi, though, he only smiled when Leon said anything in his direction and it’s just.

                Leon’s just so glad that at least someone would never think badly of him, even for all the things he’s not very good at.

 

 

 

**During it all going wrong**

                What the other students don’t know about the "brothers" is how they went from enemies of principle to brothers at all. They know they don’t know though, and that’s a start.

                They didn’t want to watch two guys sweat it out in a sauna, so they never saw.

                They didn’t see the two stiff postures melt into desperate attempts to win each other out.

                An hour in and Oowada and Ishimaru drift asleep and awake back and forth with blurry fog for the lines between the two. Neither seems to blame the other for much of anything.

                And how could you in that position? Drooping toward each other in their drifting, dripping sweat on each other like all the regrets they don’t deserve and all the duties they want to uphold.

                Two hours, and mostly everyone must have given up on them, as they sat, long past their health, muttering secrets to each other like confidants of the highest degree. Mondo wasn’t doing very well, all dressed up and hot enough to melt.

                Three hours and they like each other enough to worry about the sauna for the other’s sake. Four, and Ishimaru tells Mondo to leave for his health.

                And Ishimaru gets dressed and Mondo takes off his jacket and they walk back to their rooms together, and somehow, Ishimaru thinks he might actually be okay after all of this.

                After all, he finally had a friend, a  _brother_ , and one who would be there for him long after they escaped.

                Because with a friendship like theirs, forged in half-conscious steel-fog, they will definitely be okay.

               

 

 

                Byakuya Togami was not afraid. He had no reason to be.

                This was not the first time he’d been in this scenario, sixteen children hunting each other. This time, stuffed in a tacky school, it was easier, with less impressive of competitors and lower stakes. The idea of death held no candles to having your name and dreams stripped of you.

                If only one would win, it would be he. Obvious, really, when you take into consideration those in the group able to exert power naturally, those no one would touch with harmful intentions.

                But he didn’t emerge from the initial clash a leader. When bright red hair blurred away with the sound of chains, no one huddled toward Togami. When one hand drooped bloody-broken from the scoreboard, no one trusted Togami to be the one feeding them the truth. When a singular ball rolled from the scene, Togami was on no one’s mind, and was not the first person spoken to after the fact.

                No, that honor had gone to a boy of no title or talent except illogical optimism and a blindness to the greys of morality.

                So Togami tested Naegi.

                In the trial for Chihiro’s death, he was the main suspect. For good reason, he understood, since moving dead bodies for gain wasn’t a prevalent moral standard. But he had let Naegi see a motivation to change the position of the body and not let him see any worry for his life.

                And, surprisingly, Naegi caught on.

                So he let the assumed “leader” in on his perspective, with consistent verbal tapping on his shoulder to not assume, never assume, anyone inherently will think the way he does. Not everyone has his perspective; not everyone would value human life under their secrets or ambitions.

                Though, apparently, something spurred curiosity in Naegi toward Togami’s own perspective, and after receiving the common boy’s attempt to please him with a gift, he passively accepted to have his time whiled away, mocking this drone. As though it would even hurt him anyway, since he apparently was fine having his life be meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Why would a few insulting remarks really do anything except maybe chase him off anyway?

                But Naegi came back. And he came back. And he came back.

                And Togami didn’t think Naegi knew who he was talking to, and Naegi didn’t have success burdening his shoulders like someone worthwhile does. No, instead he seemed almost liable to float away from how little was expected of him. All he thought he needed was  _personal_  satisfaction? What was that?

                Ordinary happiness in mediocre lives meant nothing, and wasn’t something he could ever really understand.

                But somehow, Naegi seemed pleased enough. Somehow, Naegi didn’t agree to be important, even as just an errand boy to someone chosen.

                And he thought, for even a moment, how steadfast this trivial, replaceable,  _kid_  was to his principle of a worthlessly miniscule but personally content existence was actually impressive. Togami tried to shake the thought like a piece of lint in his hair, but it stayed, skim on the surface. He wondered if any of his siblings felt that way as well.

                When Naegi was right, and not everyone had to die, Togami watched down on him as he pressed the button to split open the doors to the broken world beyond. The drone turned to the entire group and smiled, and Togami saw the word  _Chosen_  embedded somewhere in those average teeth.

 

 

 

**After it all went wrong**

                They weren’t good people. Not one of them was a decent human being by prevalent standards, and even if, in this second chance, they gave their lives to fixing things they had all destroyed together, they’d stay the posterchildren for tours in Hell.

                This was something they’d all come to accept, sinking behind their demons’ masks of miserable warmongers. Though currently benign, they fell back into less agreeable traits by manner of habit.

                But they still felt connections to one another, and Sonia hadn’t wandered around the actual island since they had all been taken out of the program. She stayed within the walls of the building she and all the others had woken in. Healthy enough, she ate and slept and took care of herself, but she didn’t leave the room.

                Because she’d been told there was a chance those still unconscious could maybe wake up. The chances weren’t  _low_  but they weren’t  _high_. And she wouldn’t say she washopeful, that unspoken no-man’s-land of optimism, but she was inclined to say she was gambling, and all her bets relied on the awakening of Gundam Tanaka.

                It hadn’t happened yet when Souda deigned to join her. It wasn’t for Tanaka, obviously. She seemed wan in the seat she dragged beside Gundam, and he figured that maybe he could keep her company. Convince her that she didn’t really  _need_  him to wake up, that it wouldn’t be a big deal either way.

                But when he slouched across Gundam from her and tried to speak, rude and loud over the whirring atmospheric noises of machinery and mostly-dead people, she stood. Whipping herself up to look down on him just that one centimeter, she commanded his silence with all of her imperiousness that he oh-so-fetishized.

                Souda then lingered a good ten minutes, quietly trying to parse through the situation  in a way that didn’t make he or Sonia the “bad guy,” and meandered out when he sufficiently convinced himself. He whistled children-tunes to himself and didn’t go back to collect her away for just a meal or a tv show or anything else. He didn’t return to her post near Tanaka.

                Until the next day, when he grabbed the nicest chair he could find, a heavily padded computer chair, and maneuvered it downstairs as successfully as he could manage. This involved a good tumblr down the last four or five or nine stairs, but the chair was unharmed and he’d frozen in surprise when he’d dropped it. He rolled the chair to Gundam’s side, across from Sonia and stayed standing.

                All he said was “For you.” She didn’t stand to take the seat, though, looking a little warily at Souda as she nestled further into her minimally plush dining chair.

He stood confused and still as a fighting game character for a long minute until she finally sighed and muttered back,”You take it.”

                Maybe it should have taken Souda a little longer to pop into the chair, but he dropped in as soon as she told him it was his to sit in.

                And Sonia eyed him. He rummaged in his beat-up jumpsuit’s pocket to pull out a tiny novelty notebook and pen and set down to writing something. What, she didn’t know or think she needed to. He seemed to get really into whatever he was writing, chewing marks into the back of the pen (a bank pen, she noticed now. The kind you got for free for just going inside. It was riddled with ridges and she didn’t know he could gnaw on pens and not get splattered by ink.)

                She finally just asked him why he was sitting there and he took a few moments to look up from his notebook, and a couple more to answer.

                He said, “Well, didn’t seem like you were gonna go anywheres. I figured someone like you shouldn’t sit down here all alone.”

                Looking up at him, Sonia didn’t see much in the way of insincerity; he seemed too unfazed to be lying. On another hand though, he wasn’t this nice to her without expecting inherent affection from her in return.

                (He actually did expect this to make her like him more. Only one conscious human being talking to her? It’s like an Adam and Eve story except there are other people like one floor above them and the Jabberwock Islands were definitely not Eden.)

                She accepted his presence then, but only reluctantly under the idea that if she didn’t, he would take it as her either being “hard-to-get” (ugh) or trying to hide something from everyone (uugggh).

                And she even had to admit: company was nice to have as long as it wasn’t being creepy and trying to talk up to her, and, surprisingly enough, Souda didn’t seem to force any conversation on her. It almost didn’t seem like him, being quiet.

                After a good half-hour, he peered up from his pages for a moment and asked her, “Doesn’t it get you down? Watching like this, I mean.”

                “I figure he’ll wake up eventually.”

                Souda only ‘mm-hmm’ed, leaving Sonia to pretend she wasn’t curious about what he even had in that notebook. What could even keep Souda’s attention off her for this long? What in that notebook can she thank?

                An hour in, he stood up. She watched, unintentionally letting go of a small confused noise. If she could read his face at all, and she definitely could, he ate it up with this huge, red-faced grin. She tried to ignore it but asked if he was leaving.

                “Uh-uh. Nope. Just can’t sit for that long at a time.” He started pacing around and rolling his shoulders back to tiny sounds of comfortable popping. This went on for a few minutes. It started with his strutting like he was desperate to impress her, but by the end, he was just shuffling back to his chair, relieved-looking.

                He did this in ever-increasing frequency, as fifty minutes later, he did it again. Then forty-two. Then thirty-eight. Then thirty-four.

                She watched him with only miniscule interest as after the fourth time, he sat back down and asked, “How do you do it?”

                “Do… what?”

                “Sitting for such a long time. Doesn’t it hurt after a while?”

                “I’m used to it. You have to be trained to be regal!”

                He slipped back into his seat, and whistled. “Hard training.”

                “It actually  _was,_ ” she pressed, angry. “Keeping calm and sitting completely still while people talked down to you, or yelled at you, or insulted you, or begged you for things – “

                Souda threw up his hands. “No, no! That wasn’t sarcastic; I was actually impressed! Your unwavering dedication to holding yourself for long periods of time is… uh.”

                She didn’t care to watch him scavenge for a word, and instead took her eyes back to Gundam, lying there almost lifelessly, draining color out of his skin and wounds. The stitches around his right ear were as haphazard as he’d made them and it figured no one wanted to screw with them. No one even knew if he wouldn’t be able to hear out of that ear or if it was just the aesthetic difference.

                No one really wanted to think very hard about the technicalities of cutting off your own body parts in order to sew on a dead woman’s. Sonia didn’t even want to look down at the mess where she had let the future foundation take back Junko’s toes, leaving stumps like the ugly stepsisters and giving her custom shoes to help walking again.

                She wasn’t very good at walking anymore.

                Souda stood and stretched once more and she only vaguely watched him as he snapped close his notebook and wandered about the room before turning to her and announcing, “Dinner’s probably gonna happen real soon here. Now, you don’t hafta come. You don’t hafta do anything. But if you want, I’ll be there and then I’m going back to my room.”

                She didn’t ask why he was leaving after dinner, since it’d make him feel too important, but instead just replied, “No. I will get my own dinner when I’m ready.”

                                Wandering in the direction of the door, Souda deflated a little, but walked through the doorway with a call of, “R-right. Good night, then!”

                Sonia called back, “Good night!” and stayed where she was, looking over Gundam and wondering how Souda can stretch and be so animated with his right pectoral all thin, fake skin over muscle, and how his original neat little stitches’ holes aren’t even covered.

 Taking a glance up, she realized Souda’s chair was still stationed just across from her.

And the next day, he came back. A little earlier than last time, he slipped into the chair across from her and seemed to force himself not to hound her with questions. He asked only simples “how are you?”s and “any updates?”s.

Answering with “fine,” and “none,” respectively, they sat with little talk. Not even small talk: Little tiny talk.

She was still wary of Souda’s intentions and attitude, but she asked the first actually invested question.

                “What’s in that notebook?”

                He glanced up from it with streetlights in his eyes (because stars are too beautiful for him) and said, “B-blueprints! Plans for projects in the future, how they would work, stuff like that. N-no biggie, yeah?”

                Into his paper and pen, Souda chuckled. Sonia leaned forward in interest and asked, “Well, what’s the current plan you’re working on?”

                He looked up at her in a bubble of surprise. “Do you wanna see?” he asked, standing up and walking toward her chair on the other side of Gundam.

                Souda seemed to have a problem with personal space when it was someone else’s and he was infringing, and, with Sonia leaning away from him, he opened up to the page he’s been on.

                “See?”

                Sonia blinked.

                “I’ve been trying to figure out if I could dismantle one of those scuba headpieces – mouth and ear – that we have so many of and make it into anything. I’m currently thinkin’ radio, maybe two way, but I’d prefer to add more and make it like a…. music box with radio? Radio box? Radio box.”

                He almost seemed to glimmer with his enthusiasm as she scanned the page. The top half was a bunch of sketches and scribbles that she knew so little about the inner workings of scuba gear and radio boxes that she couldn’t decipher if they were even good sketches – those that weren’t scribbled out, anyway. The bottom half has what seems to be a conversation with himself, working out the particulars with his handwriting laid out in “will this…?”s and “can i…?”s as well as the “yes”, “no”, and “maybe???”s riddling the answers.

                It’s sometimes very easy to forget how impressive he is.

                He left again that night for dinner and sleep, then returned once more the next morning. As time went on, he started bringing down the gear and some tools and a pillow to sit on the floor with and work and even the small talk tried to fade out as he worked and minutely swore at his equipment.

                After a few days, she sat on the floor with him, this time taking the better seat, and helped find things in the dismantled piles that he needed.

                He almost finished his radio box when Peko Pekoyama woke up.

                The first one alerted was Kuzuryuu, who had greeted her, told her he was grateful she was awake, and tried to explain the situation as briefly as he could before telling her to “do as you want” and heading back upstairs to the rest of the building. She followed him shortly.

                Sonia moved back to her seat next to Gundam and Souda sulked.

                “Why don’t you like Gundam?”

                Nidai woke up next, Akane and he laughing and glad before they both raced upstairs even though the stairs should only fit one person, let alone two that could each dwarf Souda.                

                “What did he even do?”

                Then Togami, or, not-Togami woke up, and no one rushed to greet him like the other two. Naegi had taken it upon himself to bring him up-to-date and not-Togami thanked him before heading upstairs as well.

                “Do you even have a single reason to not like him?”

                Ibuki and Mahiru woke up nearly immediately after one another, and they both were told by Kirigiri what was happening at the same time, and they all walked upstairs together, Kirigiri sandwiched between the two, Ibuki up in front, Mahiru in back.

                After a couple days of asking, Souda finally answered her as honestly as he could, since Sonia wasn’t taking “He’s just – a douchebag! An over-confident dillweed.”

                He answered her honestly, finally, with, “He’s unfair.”

                Sonia looked confused at Souda, who had raised his head in her direction.

                “How is he ‘unfair?’”

                “He—“ Souda started, then searched for what he wanted to say. “He’s a complete loser! Gundam Tanaka is an unashamed loser with a lot of passion in his interests, and a weird, creepy persona he puts on, and a bad-funny way of speaking. And it sucks.”

                Sonia got only more confused, and asked, “But… how is that unfair? Are those  _bad_  things? To be passionate and have fun with how you present yourself?”

                Burying his face in his work again, he didn’t really  _work_  so much as fiddle as he continued, “Because – because!” He groaned. “Because that’s all the shit I was before going to Hope’s Peak. And all of that? Being passionate, being a complete loser? That’s the stuff that got  _me_  beat up. But it’s the reasons why  _he’s_  likeable?”

                She shouldn’t have been surprised, but nevertheless, she was.

                “Everything that made me an unlikeable, weirdo, fist fodder, is what makes someone like you like him. It’s unfair.”

                Back into his work, he dove in with indignant vigor, parts going together and apart quickly if not efficiently.

                But the next day, she told Souda when Gundam woke back up, she likes to think he’ll go back to taking care of animals. She likes to think Gundam would need help with constructing some things for habitats. Cages, exercising trinkets, maybe inventive ways to text their minds with treats hidden or something.

                Souda showed an offhanded interest to the idea of helping, claiming anything to please Sonia.

                She threw out more things they three could all do together when Gundam woke up (because she  _knew_  he would) and Souda slowly warmed to the ideas, because it meant even if Gundam was there, Sonia was too, and that sounded like fun.

                So even if Souda didn’t like Gundam. Even if Sonia was still a bit uncomfortable with the pedestal Souda puts her on. Even if they’re all terrible people who don’t really deserve affection or attachment to one another.

                When Gundam wakes up, Souda cheers as loudly as Sonia.

                (It’s a bit overwhelming right after waking up. They should both probably quiet down a little.)

 

 

 

                 When Togami wakes up, he doesn’t remember his name.

                This isn’t surprising; he never uses his real name and forgot it a long time ago, but he figured maybe he would remember it after everything his mind has been through.

                No.

                Oh well.

                No one comes to talk to him immediately after waking and he didn’t really expect anyone to.  He might look to his side a little and see a glimpse of a couple people sitting on the floor together.

                It takes a while before someone in a suit traipses down the stairs to meet him.

                This kid does not look like he knows what he’s doing in a suit. Not like he just now threw it on to greet Togami back into consciousness, but like he had it shoved in his hands and was told to wear and never told  _how_. Any friend of his that wears a suit regularly should be ashamed for not helping the kid.

                Not as if Togami was planning to either though. On the other hand, he would be  _the one_  to go to learn how to dress certain ways. Maybe he should help the kid out at some point.

                He introduces himself as Naegi Makoto, and explains that he was in a program that went haywire. A few of them have been awake since they left the program, but he was kept inside of it for more time while they fought to get him, and everyone else trapped inside, out.

                Naegi tells him a list of names of people still caught in the program and a list of those outside of it. He recognizes them but does not acknowledge them.

                He is told by Naegi that they who were in the program are not to leave the island anyway, and that it really, actually is for everyone’s good, both Togami and Naegi’s and all the others.

                Naegi asks if he’d like to come up to see the rest of the building, get acquainted with his surroundings, and he complies. Standing up, Naegi takes his hand and.

                Something’s not quite right about it.

                But this kid in a suit lets nothing on and he takes an indifferent stance to the feeling of wrongness.

                Nevertheless, he only takes his hand for a moment to ask if he needs help standing, which is appreciated, disregarded, and ignored, and he leads Togami upstairs.

                There’s an eating area, basically a cafeteria, a little ways up the corridor from the stairs and to the right. The left side holds a meeting area. Further down the corridor is stairs to another floor of “bedrooms” which were actually just research rooms or test subject rooms or equipment rooms. Apparently, Naegi told him, this building was only a research laboratory, so living in it isn’t really the intention. However, they’re trying to pull it into a livable place.

                Three doors down, the door is closed but not locked. Naegi tells him not to go in. Not from danger, nothing dangerous is back there, just someone you wouldn’t want to meet.

                Togami knows taking people’s word is a bad idea. His talent revolves around fooling people; he knows the tricks. Even so, he chooses to not open the door.

                What use would there be in opening it?

                Naegi looks back at him and smiles as he tells Togami that he can take whatever room he wants that hasn’t been taken already.

                So he asks about everyone who hasn’t woken up yet. If they ever will. It doesn’t seem like he should have even been able to.

                He had seen what felt so wrong earlier.

                Naegi complacently agrees that yeah that’s probably right.

                He had looked down at his right hand.

                But, Naegi presses, nonetheless.

                His fingerpads weren’t his. He couldn’t feel them, and they were oddly stitched on. There was something terribly wrong here.

                Nonetheless, Naegi is sure, everything will end up alright in the end!

                And, sorry to say, Togami didn’t see it. Maybe optimism is the sign of those with a chance.

                Not those without a name or fingerprints.

 

 

 

                When someone says that everyone will definitely wake up, they’ve only jinxed it.

                Months after Peko Pekoyama woke up, months past their letting Izuru wander around unhindered after a paranoid watch on him, a very long time settling into their new mode of living, there are still only fourteen former despair members conscious in the building, and one laying weak where he’d been left, in the dim downstairs of the building.

                The only ones who ever seem to go down to him are Naegi, checking on him in case he  _does_  wake up in some capacity, to not leave him all alone and confused, and to keep an eye on him, and Izuru, though it’s almost incomprehensible as to the why. Then again, Izuru Kamukura has also been found dawdling in other people’s rooms, using their desks or pencils for things, laying on their beds, and giving little reason to those who ask.

                It still seems a little  _off_  somehow that Izuru spends time sitting beside someone unconscious, but who knows.

                At this rate, it doesn’t look like Komaeda will ever wake up before simply dying where he lies.

                When Naegi breaks this in a meeting, backed up by Kirigiri and Togami, everyone cares like he’s a starving child millions of miles away. There’s a pity there, and a pang of feeling bad about it here, but all in all, no one sees it to be much of a problem. Those who remember the program remember him as a troublemaker and freak. Those who do not remember the program do not remember him at all. He’d never been much of a big figure in the despair ranks.

                Honestly, some doubt he was even supposed to be part of them at all. No one could prove it either way though, so no one thought very hard about it.

                Naegi continues by saying he could easily manifest Komaeda back into the program, even maybe manage to get him in a form that can interact through the computer with all of them, ala Alter Ego, though that would give him access to the system and information centers and that seems a little risky considering his character.

                They agree that it seems most humane to put him back in the simulation program, and Naegi notes that they are to do that next.

                However, after Kirigiri disbands the meeting and Togami  _kindly_  escorts them out, Naegi stops Izuru on his way out and asks him if Izuru considers himself totally unattached to the identity of Hinata Hajime.

                Izuru asserts that he does. While he will begrudgingly acknowledge that Hinata Hajime is his starting parameters, he is much more than him now.

                So Naegi asks, on behalf of those involved, if he may reinstate Hinata Hajime’s programming into the program. Izuru doesn’t need to be told it’s to not let Komaeda stay all alone on a programmed beach.

                Once more, Izuru presses that he does not care about Hinata Hajime. Do whatever he wants, it is no concern of his.

                So, some unknown time period after, grey-green eyes peer open to a blue sky on a bed of sand with a blanket of humidity. When he looks across the beach, he wasn’t the only one lying in the bed, and he crawls over to the other person.

                And when both eyes are open, they meet, and Komaeda asks if he’s alright. After anxious worry on Hinata’s part and curious resistance on Komaeda’s, they explore together, told only briefly to get along. Then they find their little group joined by a Nanami Chiaki. They don't know where they are, or why it's such a nice place if it’s supposed to be a prison of some sort. They don't know who that was that told them to simply live and get along. They're very confused but they're not alone.

                Somehow,  _somehow_ , they’ll be okay.

                Even after it all went wrong, they'll all be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> (uh milkypillvomit i just tried to write all of the ships you put on your application so yeah. That's why I wrote it this way. yeah sorry if that didn't go right. especially since this is very Not Shippy i think sorry. unu  
> but otherwise! I'm shsltearjerker on tumblr uvu)


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